


Being Friendly

by Mis_Shapes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Cold Showers, Flirting, Guilt, Jealousy, Kinda, Late night furniture rearranging, Love Triangles, M/M, Masturbation, Roommates, Sex, Voyeurism, this isn't as bad as it sounds, throbb endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: Robb is not the type to be overcome by urges to rearrange rooms and yet here he is, in the middle of the night, surrounded by the boxes he’s pulled out from under the bed and cramped in by the other furniture while he attempts to pull the heavy bed frame across the room single handedly.What’s brought this on? The amorous noises leaking through the paper thin wall to the neighbouring room.Robb's flatmate Patrek begins to bring home a guy that has him start to lose his sanity.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Patrek Mallister, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lydia_Martin_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Martin_trash/gifts).



> Loosely inspired by Your Girlfriend - Blossoms, but with a happy ending (of course)

Robb is not the type to be overcome by urges to rearrange rooms and yet here he is, in the middle of the night, surrounded by the boxes he’s pulled out from under the bed and cramped in by the other furniture while he attempts to pull the heavy bed frame across the room single handedly.

What’s brought this on? The amorous noises leaking through the paper thin wall to the neighbouring room. Should he have considered this problem on moving in? Probably, yes. Should he have done this the first time the problem presented itself? Also yes. Did he always intend to? Yes. Could he be bothered? No. And yet six months on, under the current dire circumstances, it's a desperate situation. One to which his brother has responded to only in laughing emojis. Fucker. 

To be fair to Jon, Robb hasn’t been too distressed about it up until the past week. Until Patrek started bringing back who has to be one of the most frustratingly, _agonisingly_ , charming humans on this godforsaken planet.

Despite all his efforts and strengths, the bed is fighting him every step of the way, but for one glorious moment, he thinks they may be finally sated.

“Fuck!” Comes the cry almost immediately when he takes off his headphones.

Fuck indeed. He’s pretty certain he shouldn’t get turned on by the noises his roommate’s boyfriend makes. And if this goes on any longer he’s going to have some hearing loss on account of the volume of the blaring music in his ears attempting to mask the noises.

What the fuck is he going to do now? Is moving out too drastic? That’s not even really possible; he’s still in the contract for another six months… unless he can do a sneaky sub let.

Jon(  
  
**Robb:** you wanted to move out soon, right?   
  
**Jon:**...  
  
**Robb:** i’ll give you a good deal.  
  
**Jon:** not a chance  
  
**Jon:** it can’t be that bad  
  


He’s right, despite not knowing the half of it - the half that’s sending blood rushing south, it's not that bad. Robb can cope with this. He just needs to get out, meet some people. It’s just a silly crush. That’s it... Maybe if he tells himself it's fine enough it will come into fruition. He can’t see that helping his current predicament though.

“Oh, gods!”

_Gods, put me out of my misery._

Can you get sleeping tablets prescribed to prevent inappropriate boners? He could do with some valium right now.

A few minutes flopped across the mattress clutching a pillow over his head and Robb’s ready to take drastic action. 

He means to just take a cold shower and drown out the noises under a stream of water, to refresh himself and move on, he really does, but things don’t quite work out like that. Before he knows it, his hand is slipping down to stroke himself hurriedly. As though if he does it fast enough it'll be like it never happened and he’ll save himself some of the shame and guilt. 

Well, forehead pressed against the cold tiles, the chase for release ends monumentally quick on account of the faint moans ringing in his ears. Moans he wouldn’t hear unless he was actively listening out for them. Seven hells.

To make matters worse, when he finally accepts what he’s done, gets out of the shower and attempts to creep out of the bathroom and down the hall like he’s fleeing a crime scene, its to run into the object of his obsession - affection doesn’t quite cut it - in a similar state of undress.

Similarities in attire aside, the smirk Theon wears on his face is in stark contrast to Robb’s horror. He can only hope the heat building under his skin can be passed off as the kind of flush one might get from a hot shower.

“Oh, hey,” Theon smiles, “fancy seeing you here.”

“I, uh, well, I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d… y’know…” _wank over the noises you make and how I picture your face when you make them_. He gesticulates back towards the bathroom then pushes the hand not holding the towel in a tight grip through his hair on the back of his head, desperately trying to fight embarrassment. 

Amusement floods Theon’s face and Robb realises it had been a joke. It’s his flat, of course Theon might see him here… Did he hope to see him here? And while dressed only in his underwear? Shit, that’s not something to wonder. This is Patrek’s boyfriend he’s thinking about. If anyone’s off limits, it's him. Except maybe one of his sibling’s love interests. Maybe it's not as bad as he thinks. 

It’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to act on these feelings.

The way Theon looks at him threatens to laden him with a renewed interest he’d rather avoid and Robb is sure he can see right into him and knows exactly what he’s done. 

He longs for the ground to open up and swallow him into a deep deep hole. No chasm would be large enough.

“Good luck on getting some sleep, mate. Will probably see you tomorrow,” Theon finally says, slipping past him on his way to the bathroom.

 _It’s not luck I need_ , Robb thinks tragically. _It’s a miracle_.

“Oh yeah, by the way,” Theon breaks him from his thoughts, a hand against the doorframe, fuck those trunks are… well fitting, “we're going to see a film at 8, if you’re interested? Some superhero nonsense Patrek has been banging on about. Though I imagine you’d like it, right? He keeps meaning to tell you, but you know what he’s like, useless at passing on information.”

This makes Robb laugh as he looks back to follow his movements, it sounds just like Patrek. Then he realises the tone speaks of a couple’s gentle ribbing of each other. That realisation makes his stomach turn.

Robb swallows the lump from his throat. “Sure, sounds good,” he says, pulling his gaze up from Theon’s chest. 

It sounds like pure torture. He’s never considered himself a masochist, but he’s starting to have some doubts. The lengths he’ll go to to spend some more time with this guy...

Theon’s lips tug back up, that beautiful dimple of his appears, and Robb dreams that the drift of his dark eyes is a sign of shared interest. “Great.” 

* * *

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea.

What he should have done is gone into the screen with the pair of them to engineer a seating arrangement in which Patrek was between them. Instead, he’d gone to the toilets to gather his senses and give himself a (mental) telling off in the mirror at the thought that Theon had invited him for certain unspeakable reasons. Now, here he is, sat beside his unfortunate crush in a darkened room.

Seriously though, who knowingly creates third wheel circumstances? It’s just rude, is what it is. 

It’s as if Theon knows what he's thinking when he meets Robb’s eyes halfway through the film and flashes a smile with the straw of the shared drink (also a mistake) against his bottom lip. He looks up through his dark lashes which wouldn’t even be possible if he weren’t slouched down in his seat given his height. The ankle of the leg closest to Robb sits on his opposite knee, and he lets the other rub up against Robb’s when he laughs.

Patrek must be mad to be oblivious to this spark between them. Right? In Robb’s mind there might as well be a neon sign above his head.

Shit, maybe there is no spark. Maybe that's wishful thinking on his part. In any case, Robb is under no illusion that he’s behaving normally. 

To make things worse, when he dares reach for a handful of popcorn Theon has wound up having in his lap Theon has also chosen this moment to do the same. For one heart stopping moment their hands touch and then, when he’s just about recovered, Patrek’s hand falls to Theon’s thigh and Robb almost chokes on a kernel.

Is he imagining it when, after laughing at something whispered in his ear, Theon shoots him an apologetic look?

Fantasising over someone in a shitty relationship may - _may_ \- be one thing, but they get on so fucking well that when they share their in jokes someone might as well be dousing him with a bucket of ice water. He’d always thought couples delighting in fancying the same actors or actresses was a myth but he’s now a witness to it.

That’s it. He needs to pull himself together. The only thing he can do right now is to lean to the opposite side, like he should have done in the first place, and keep his legs politely together, like he should have done in the first place. He’s here cursing the brush of Theon’s body against his but the truth is he’s put himself in the way. He’s a terrible person.

 _Does Theon notice?_ He wonders. _Does he miss the contact?_

Is Robb imagining the turn of Theon’s head towards him in the corner of his eye 10 minutes later?

He’s definitely not imagining it when, a short while after that, Theon sets his elbow on the arm rest between them and leans over to whisper in his ear about something in the film. 

Robb can barely make out what he’s saying over the thrum of his own heart beat in his ear at the way Theon’s warm breath tickles him.

He smells so fucking good it should be illegal.

Pressing his legs tighter together and willing his body to get over it, he smiles and nods, hoping that’s the correct response. 

Theon’s eyes give him a glance over.

Is he _smirking_? He knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he? He has to know what he’s doing. Someone like this isn’t oblivious to their effects.

This really is not Robb’s fault, and to be quite honest he’s a little proud of himself when he declines the invitation to join them in meeting some friends at a bar when they leave the cinema.

What he’s not proud of is what happens later that night.

* * *

He wakes to the clang of the door handle flying into the wall outside and the subsequent laughs and shushes that fill him with irrational anger. When have they ever cared about disturbing him before? It only gets worse when there’s some laughter _at_ the shushing which comes to an unnatural stop only to be replaced with a quiet groan once they’ve managed to lock the door. If he didn’t need it to muffle the noise he’d have likely thrown his pillow across the room.

The only thing stopping him from going completely off the rails is they do then seem to quieten down as they pass his room, but perhaps that’s because he has such a firm grip on the pillow. Why they think though that once they are in Patrek’s room making noise is no longer a problem, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that there’s no delicacy in how they collapse onto the bed, and a lot of humour in it.

“Smooth,” he hears Theon’s faint voice teasing voice right before a thump on the adjoining wall is followed by laughter. “Shh!”

Foolishly, Robb rolls over in his bed and pulls the duvet up over his head too, thinking a couple of extra layers of cotton and down might solve all his problems. He really doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed to fetch his headphones. Maybe tomorrow he’ll have the foresight to leave them on the bedside table. For now he’s going to press his eyes closed and pray to the gods that he drifts back on. Things don’t really work out like that though.

He can just about keep it together hearing Patrek’s enthusiasm and praise for whatever it is Theon is apparently doing with his mouth. He doesn’t want to know. Or know about him doing it to Patrek anyway… although, he can’t say he doesn’t wonder if he’d like it just as much as Patrek seems to. He wonders if Patrek has his hands in Theon’s hair… Theon’s dark locks look perfect for threading his fingers through. He wonders if he’d like to be held with a firm grasp there.

Oh fuck, this is not good. He’s out of his mind. He’s such a creep.

 _Patrek’s boyfriend_ , he tells himself, hands shaking.

Patrek’s boyfriend. Funny and good natured Patrek’s boyfriend. Patrek, his roommate and friend. _His_ boyfriend… His insanely hot boyfriend. His insanely hot boyfriend whose mouth Robb would quite like wrapped around his cock. 

In his mind, Theon looks up at him as he had in the cinema, knowing full well he’s setting his nerves light. Because he did, didn’t he? Because he knows, doesn’t he?

It’s already bad, Robb _knows_ it's bad, but things get a whole lot worse.

The noises have stopped for now, but he knows better than to believe they’re over. That doesn’t stop him from pulling the covers and pillow off. Just to double check, of course. He can picture it now, Patrek pulling away, their quiet pants, before they maneuver. There it is, there’s the thunk against the adjoining wall and breathless laughter, right on cue.

Is it wrong not to try muffling the sounds again? No. No, it can’t be. It’s not his fault. It’s not like he’s doing something he wouldn’t normally do. He’s entitled to lie in his bed without covering his ears.

Is it wrong that he maybe doesn’t do it in anticipation of what is perhaps one of the best noises known to him? 

Where is the line?

Has he already crossed it? Does he cross it when he pushes his hand under the elastic of his pajama bottoms right as Theon makes that indescribable bitten off sound up against the wall? Or is it when he touches himself?

He can just about hear them speak to each other in hushed voices, broken only by moans and light chuckles which are usually followed by louder groans, as his fingers gingerly trail over his length - just to take the edge off.

“Fuck me,” Theon requests, his voice strained, and Robb can almost imagine it’s addressed to him; front teeth biting down into his plump lip as he waits to have his wish fulfilled, failing to disguise the whine when it is. 

That’s when his hand closes over his achingly hard cock and he restrains his own whimper. Is he really going to do this? There’s no denying that it’s to the noises this time. 

He’s doing this.

With his eyes closed, in his mind’s eye, Theon sinks down onto him, the moans falling from his mouth are a product of the pleasure he finds riding him. He pictures him rising and falling with every stroke of his fist, brows drawn together, eyes opening to look into his like he can barely handle how good it feels and rolling back when it all gets too much.

It's good, for a while. It’ll do the job. Then Theon begins to beg. 

“More,” he pleads. “Harder… Oh fuck… there. There, don’t stop… It feels so - It feels so good… Oh gods, more.”

“Bossy,” Patrek chastises him jovially.

Robb would like nothing more than to leave this room to go in there and give him what he needs. The dream that it's him that might be able to satisfy Theon and not his boyfriend has guilt sweep through him. He can’t be thinking this… Maybe they’d be happy for him to join them… Robb wouldn’t be though. It’d never be enough. And he hates himself for thinking he’d show Patrek how it’s done.

He’s almost thankful when something - someone - knocks into the wall and Theon cries out. Almost. There’s more chuckles from them then, and both that thump and the whimpers and moans take on a more urgent rhythm.

Robb wets his lip, fighting to remain silent. To keep the groans threatening to escape at bay and the creak of his bed at a minimum. His chest rises and falls with his laboured breathing, and his free hand reaches into his own hair in lieu of Theon’s.

“Fuck, I needed this,” says Theon helplessly, struggling to speak. “You have- You have no idea.” It sounds just like it's being whispered to him. Like it's for his ears. Is this his imagination? It has to be. The rush it gives him is real though and the noise he makes just after goes straight to his cock.

Just the thought of him does more for Robb than any experience he’s known. He’s so close. Maybe a sane person would cut to the chase, but not him. No, he’s driven by some insane need to last. To see it through.

He turns, gripping the top of the headboard as he pull himself up onto his knees to fuck into his fist. His head falls onto the cold wall in front of him. Fingers spread over his lips as though to remind him to make no noises, but in truth he’s struggling to contain himself; lost without a body to hold. To pleasure.

Theon’s noises become a never ending string of moans and whines that both turn him on and fill him with jealousy he has no right to feel. When another bang sounds, Robb pictures his hand slapping against the wall hiding him from sight but definitely not mind, and when he hears him reach his peak Robb imagines Theon thinking about him on the other side. With that thought he comes hard over his hand and slips just a little, enough for his chin to hit the bed frame.

“Fuck!” Robb feels his face drain of blood. _Shit,_ he thinks, registering that it’ll have been loud enough for them to hear as the metallic tang of blood fills his mouth from his cut lip.

The situation leaves him with enough time to rearrange himself, turn on a lamp, and hastily use a packet to clean up his hand before the predictable concerned knock comes at his door.

Patrek clears his throat. “You alright, mate?”

Shitting hell, he’s such a decent guy. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Can I…?” Patrek asks as he cracks open the door. Spotting Robb dabbing blood from his lip, he raises his eyebrows. “Been in a fight?” He jokes, stretching out and scratching his head sleepily.

Robb pats the edge of the nightstand. “Just with the furniture.”

“Ouch,” he says sympathetically. The mention of furniture must flip a switch in his brain because he tilts his head slightly right as he yawns and Theon walks past behind him in the hallway. “Gotten into feng shui or something?”

Fuck his life. 

* * *

The cold light of day has Robb sick to the pit of his stomach. He’d much prefer to hide in bed for the entire day and refuse to face the reality of things. He might well have done if it weren’t for Jon nagging him via text message; telling him if he doesn’t join them for Sunday dinner he’s going to a) send out a search party because never does he willing skip on Cat’s Yorkshire Puddings, and b) tell Sansa his limited knowledge of the situation without Robb there to defend himself.

With silence outside for the past hour, he deems it safe to leave his room in search of caffeine, and so he does, half sliding along the hall in socks in a bid to make as little noise as possible. It all proves to be a waste of time.

He flicks on the kettle and leans over the counter to fill in the crossword Patrek has left out without any disturbance, but the minute he’s pouring boiling water into a mug there’s a voice behind him.

“Morning,” Theon says brightly, and Robb is vaguely aware of him making a joke about it actually being the afternoon, but he’s too busy jumping out of his skin to hear the rest of it.

“Ah!” He yells at the splash of scalding water on his hand. “Shit.” Wincing, he uselessly shakes it to rid himself of what remains on his skin, but Theon is already pushing him aside to throw a tea towel on the puddle on the side and then to the sink, where he turns on the tap and guides his hand under the cold stream.

“Sorry,” says Theon, a little abashed. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I heard the kettle boil and… “ Robb hears the little huff of a sigh, “I thought I’d come say hey.”

Robb takes a deep breath, looking from his red hand going numb up to Theon’s perfect face. He’s painfully handsome to look at even across a room, it’s enough to threaten him a heart attack up close. “Hey,” he breathes, managing a smile, not completely devoid of humour, and is rewarded with a broad grin that takes his breath away.

The dark eyes watching him flick down to his lips and he feels himself freeze at how Theon leans forwards ever so slightly.

Theon winces. “Ow,” he says, lifting his hand to have his thumb stroke carefully along the grove between Robb’s swollen lip and tender chin. He looks back up to check on Robb’s reaction. “That does look sore.”

This cannot be happening. Oh shit, he’s leaning in towards him. He can’t do this... Theon’s lips look like they're just begging to be kissed though. There’s going to be hell to pay for this. Will it be worth it? He can feel the warmth of Theon’s breath, and the smell of mint… and Patrek’s shower gel. 

Snapping out of it, he forces out a self deprecating laugh. “Accident prone, even in my sleep, I guess.” He swallows and, despite knowing it does nothing for his acting casual bit, takes Theon’s wrist to move his hand away. Turning off the tap, he looks away and clears his throat. “Are you thirsty? I-I mean do you want a drink?” 

“Sure,” Theon says in dulcet tones, eyes sparkling. He contorts his body for Robb to pass until he’s free to lean back, propped up on his elbows while he watches him sort out the mess. “What are you offering?”

* * *

He retells that last part of the story - the way Theon nips his lip, the way he speaks, the way he looks at him, and how he himself tries to maintain boundaries - and the looks in the cinema over and over to Jon and Sansa, who are definitely sensing he’s leaving out something important… Something like his night time habits and how deep in he is.

He can tell how eager Sansa is for the gossip when she asks, “and then what happened?” 

Robb shrugs, poking at the crumble still left in his bowl despite everyone else having already fled the table. “I made him coffee, asked where Patrek was -”

“Good,” Jon interrupts him with Sansa nodding in agreement. He has a good mind to tell them he’s not an idiot, he knows it was the right thing to do.

“Do I need to tell him?” He asks them, panicked. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, Patrek, your boyfriend keeps smiling at me and being nice and - touched starved as I am - I can’t stop reading too much into it?’”

He can’t help but feel a little disappointed when neither of them jump in to say he’s not reading too much into it.

“Poppet,” Sansa pulls a sympathetic face and reaches out and pats his arm patronisingly. “It’ll be ok.”

“Will it though?” 

“Hasn’t he only been in the picture for like a week?” Jon asks. He nods along when Robb does. “And doesn’t Patrek… y’know… get around?” 

For whatever reason, their sister chuckles then and looks down into her drink, but Robb sees what he’s saying. Chances are it would be over in a couple of weeks. He could maybe stay somewhere else for some of that time. But is it ever acceptable behaviour to make a move of a friend’s ex no matter how short the relationship?

“This feels different - you haven’t seen them together.” It would be typical for him to wait it out and this to be the one to stick, then before he knows it he’s stood watching them cut a huge white cake together in matching suits.

“You could even just be honest about your feelings,” Sansa suggests. “Patrek might be a little more sensitive and be less… I don’t know… in your face.”

“It’s not even that! They’re not all over each other outside his room or anything.” He watches his brother and sister exchange funny looks with each other. “What do I do?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [Evax3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evax3/pseuds/Evax3) for reading this over for me - you're a gem.
> 
> I managed to keep (most) of this (chapter) from [Lydia_Martin_trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Martin_trash/pseuds/Lydia_Martin_trash) to maybe be able to call this a 'gift' (I'm terrible, I'm sorry)
> 
> Much love to the pair of you.

Nothing is a lot easier said than done.

He gets back that night to find Patrek on the sofa and reminders of Theon scattered around. 

The mug he’d used that afternoon is still in the sink. His writing is all over the now completed crossword now on the table. He’s left a lighter on the coffee table and a book on the chair arm. But it's more than that. His ghost lingers in the kitchen and the hallway where they’d bumped into each other, taunting him with sultry looks, honeyed words, and lost opportunities. Robb would swear he could smell him in the air. All he can do is wish he were there.

Patrek looks back over the back of the settee when Robb turns on the tap and starts aggressively doing the dishes before having even taken off his coat. He frowns. This is unusual behaviour to say the least. Neither of them are incredibly particular when it comes to tidiness and this is very much out of character. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Robb grumbles.

“Ok…” says Patrek, not easily fooled by this poor act. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Yeah,” he’s snapping, he knows he is, “how about you?”

“At work?” Patrek asks. He’s as confused as he has every right to be. Robb is being ridiculous. “It was ok, I guess. Same old same old.”

“What about last night?” Robb presses pointedly.

“Yeah, it was good.” He laughs. “Stayed out a bit too late though for getting up this morning.” 

“Didn’t stop you staying up a bit longer when you got in though, did you?”

“Sorry,” says Patrek, having the decency to look sheepish, “did we wake you up?”

“It’s fine,” mumbles Robb while he dries the mug. 

It definitely isn’t fine.

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

He sighs. “It’s not that.”

“Ok… Then what is it?”

“It’s just constant, isn’t it? He’s always here. And that’s fine, obviously,” it’s not, “but you could warn me…” He then mutters, “maybe I’d buy earplugs or something.”

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind having him round, it’s only been for a week, and uh, I’ll try to keep the noise down in future.”

“Is that even possible?” Robb snaps.

Patrek frowns and turns to face him, kneeling up. “Robb, what is the problem? You’ve never said anything before.”

“Nothing, there’s not a problem.”

He’s such a fucking liar. 

“There’s definitely a problem.”

“I just don’t… I don’t know. I just find him a bit difficult, that’s all.” He’s going to hell for this. ‘A bit difficult’. So this is what it’s come to, making up vague and false complaints about a person because he can’t handle how attractive they are.

“What on earth does that mean?” Patrek’s eyebrows bunch together. “Is this because he’s a guy?” He asks carefully.

“What? No! It’s not because he’s a guy.” Not in the way he’s implying anyway.

“You’ve never complained about any of the girls I’ve had over.”

“Nor did I about Ben,” Robb points out, giving himself a pat on the back for pulling this out of the bag. “Look, it’s just that it feels like he’s always here and it's not like he contributes.”

Patrek grins and quirks his eyebrows in a way that would normally have him laugh along.

“Yes, well, at least one of us is getting something out of this arrange-”

The opening of Patrek’s door stops him dead.

No. Gods, no. No, this can’t be happening. He might be having a lot of bad luck, but it can’t be _this_ bad.

“Please, don’t let me disturb you.” Even his voice is a wonder. How does he manage to pull off being cold and teasing simultaneously? He sounds like some sexy Bond villain.

 _Sorry,_ Patrek mouths and then grimaces theatrically.

Robb cringes, unable to look directly at him. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”

“I’m always here, remember…” he echos back at him, then looks to Patrek as he begins to pull on a jacket. “I’m going to get off.”

“You sure?” Patrek jumps up from where he’s sat, quick to play host.

“Mmm, I should be heading back anyway. It was nice to meet you, Robb. Sorry about, well,” he flaps his hand a little, “everything.”

Patrek goes to see him off at the door after they’re both collected the last few items of Theon’s belongings. It might just be one of the most awkward things Robb’s ever witnessed, but they still manage to laugh over a couple of hushed words.

Why does Robb feel like chasing after Theon when Patrek is seemingly content with leaving it at clapping a hand on his shoulder? Inside, he screams at Patrek not to be so unbelievably stupid. It may be killing him, but Theon is perfect for Patrek. He can’t be the reason for their break up. If that’s it will he ever see him again? He doesn’t even know his full name.

* * *

Two days later he comes home to Patrek romancing in the kitchen, only this time he’s not with Theon, but a woman Robb’s convinced he’s never even met. He freezes when Patrek, completely unashamed, kisses her briefly on the lips.

Robb’s grip tightens on his keys, edges of the sharp metal pressing into his palm. “What -”

“Oh, hey! Sorry, we’ll get out of your way.”

“Wh- Where’s Theon?”

“Uhh… at his I would imagine?” He laughs at something being said to him in his ear. “Well, it's fifty-fifty really,” he continues with this in-joke.

“Actually, I think he was with Kyra and Bessa when we left so...” Patrek’s guest smirks.

“Whatever that works out has less of a ring to it,” Patrek tells her with a grin. Raising a brow, he turns back to Robb, “how come? I thought you were annoyed with him always being here.” Robb’s torn between pointing out that didn’t mean they had to break up, or, if he’s reading this wrong, he has any right to be cheating on him, but luck would have it that he’s saved from this embarrassment. “Ah! He said to make sure you knew you were still welcome at the party tomorrow… made some joke about invading his space. I dunno. I can’t really remember.”

Robb blinks. “The party?”

“Yeah, you know,” says Patrek, confused at how Robb has no idea what he’s talking about, “the house warming party.”

He can feel his brows begin to knit. “Whose house warming party?”

“His…? Do you know someone else who’s just moved?”

“I didn’t know anyone had?” Robb turns his palms out, shaking his head.

“Oh.” Patrek’s lips form an O that lasts for a couple of seconds. “ _Oh_ … That’s sort of why he’s been staying here. Sorry, I thought I’d mentioned. He needed a place to crash while they sorted shit out. I’m sure I told you?”

“You-” Robb looks between Patrek and the blonde to his side, realisation dawning on him, “you weren’t serious with him?”

Patrek chuckles. “Me and Theon? He’s a good shag, but he’s just a mate.” He carries on talking, Robb’s mind is too busy processing the first part. 

**\- Theon -**

Theon clocks them the minute they come in, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to run after the pair.

Patrek is too busy catching up with people and introducing Robb to their friends to notice that he’s being watched. He tosses his head back, laughing at something, while his roommate scans the crowded room.

Usually Theon considers how laid back Patrek is to be a positive trait but it’s starting to get to him.

“Is that him looking for you?” Kyra asks, smiling mischievously as she watches him. 

Theon nods and takes a swig of his beer. “Mmhmm.”

“Gods, why is this the first time we’re seeing him?”

Theon looks at her leaning forwards slightly. “I imagine it’s got something to do with how you’re looking at him.”

“Oi!” She laughs and pushes him playfully. “Oh,” she stops what she’s doing to wave her hand in the air, “I think he’s spotted you.”

“Stop it,” he tells her, trying to pull the hand down, failing not to laugh about it and resorting to tickling her.

Robb finds them like that, squabbling and grabbing for one another’s hands until they each fall silent. Eventually, Kyra flashes a smile and hops down from where she’s sitting on the kitchen counter.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” she excuses herself, giving Theon’s side one last pinch and Robb one last look.

“Nuisance,” Theon calls after her, to which she winks and blows a kiss over her shoulder, then turns his attention to Robb. As of yet he’s still uncertain of how to play this, just how far to push him. It might be nice to see him grovel a little. “You made it,” he comments, keeping his voice neutral.

“Uh, yeah,” he says with a quick, and annoyingly endearing, ruffle of his curls. He’s wearing a bright blue t-shirt, the shade of which Theon would hate on literally anyone else, but on him it only serves to bring out the colour of his eyes. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Only seems fair after you’ve tolerated me so well,” he says dryly.

“About that, I’m real-”

Changing his voice to make it a little clearer that he is honestly just teasing him, he says, “It’s fine; I’m aware that I can be _a bit difficult_.”

A line grows between Robb’s eyebrows. He looks off to the side and bites into his plump lip. When he does look back he shakes his head. “I thought you were a thing,” he admits, “you and Patrek. And I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t want you around anymore because it’s torture.”

He’d heard as much from Patrek, who had, thankfully, thought it was as funny as he did. 

“I was beginning to think I wasn’t wanted.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth.” There’s a hint of a blush riding on his cheeks, but Robb’s voice is firm, and even watching him as intently as he is, Theon is still surprised by how bold he seems when he comes in close. 

Theon lowers his voice. “You’ve been very well behaved.”

“You’d love to hear of all my sins wouldn’t you?” 

Theon’s fingers find the belt loops of Robb’s jeans and pull him in. “And more.” He smirks and brings his thumb back to Robb’s chin and it's now almost nonexistent bruise, to play against his lip. He’d like to know the story behind that. “Are you going to let me kiss it better?”

There’s still some hesitation, the way Robb checks over his shoulder for Patrek’s reaction would be endearing if it weren’t for how impatient he’s growing.

“There’s definitely not- ?”

“No, just sex.”

“Never anything- ?”

“No.”

Robb turns back, but rather than give the ok, he takes Theon by surprise and into a fierce kiss. There’s no second guessing, no cautious approach, only a full-frontal barrage that has his lips part instinctively to welcome Robb’s tongue. He can barely believe the noise he makes before he loses the kiss to a smug smile that’s too much of a turn on to admit.

Robb’s hand is warm and heavy at his neck, the callused pad of his thumb strokes down over sensitive skin.

“Mmm,” Robb murmurs, nudging Theon’s cheek playfully with the tip of his nose. He nips his bottom lip between his front teeth, letting it slip slowly from the hold, and breathes hot in his ear. “It’s of your making,” he whispers. “Those sweet noises you make had me coming so hard I left my body and drew blood.”

Drowned god, that rouses quite some interest.

“How about we take this somewhere more private?”

“This is your party,” points out Robb, managing to look simultaneously eager and hesitant as he looks for reassurance.

“Do you care?” Theon asks with a small laugh. He gets his answer in how Robb shepherds him from the kitchen and up the stairs despite not knowing where exactly his room is, hands against him every step of the way.

He ignores his sister and the judgement hidden in her quirked brow on the landing, concentrating on navigating them past his guests with as little interruption as he can manage. This has been a long time coming. A week it might have been, but it’s been a week of torment and a growing need which has become increasingly insatiable. 

Not that Patrek isn’t good, he just doesn’t get that look in his eyes like he’s going to eat him alive. His hands do all the right things, but they don’t mean to possess him. Technically, he’s great - Theon doesn’t fuck just anyone on the regular - but he’d sooner laugh and joke rather than make lewd vows of intent between kisses.

Robb’s hands slip under the hem of his top, caressing him before they tug it up over his head. Fuck, they make him feel like some plaything.

“I was thinking of you,” Theon says with no explanation.

The corner of Robb’s lip turns and lets him know he understands his meaning. He kisses him briefly and Theon feels himself impulsively chase after him when he pulls away to speak. Pushing hair from Theon’s face, his voice is husky when he says, “I hoped so.”

Hastily, he sets about undressing Robb, desperate to get at him. Something which doesn’t go unnoticed by Robb.

“It’s a shame that towel wasn’t smaller,” he says, beating him to a comment and running a hand down over his chest and belly along the line of hair there.

“Yeah? What would you have done? Begged him to fuck you some more?” Robb asks. His hand reaches to take a handful of his bum to give it harsh squeeze.

“Taken a cold shower maybe,” he says teasingly.

Robb chuckles, walking him backwards between boxes and towards the bed. “Seems like it would have been wasted on you then,” he says as the back of Theon’s knees hit the mattress. “I wonder if that would’ve been enough for you though. It wasn’t for me. Had to take matters into my own hands.”

“Maybe I’d have accidentally slipped back into the wrong bed.”

Despite his clear amusement, the authority in Robb’s voice when he says, “ _don’t_ ,” is enough to make his knees weak.

Robb’s hands grasp at him, letting him know their intentions and urge him back onto the sheets where he lets himself fall back and props himself up on his elbows to watch Robb unbuckling his belt. He looks at him now as he has so often, bright blue eyes consuming every inch of his body while his hands come to stroke his inner thighs.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you senseless since that very first day,” he rasps right before his lips follow his fingertips. The press of his hot wet tongue has Theon groaning already. His feet inch up the bed, slipping against the sheets. 

Theon bites down on his lip. He should feel guilty, perhaps, for having wound him up, but the idea that he’s been unable not to fantasise about this whilst being under the misguided impression he was romantically involved with Patrek gives him a thrill. The limited amount he knows about Robb, including his shutting down of his advance, tells Theon he’s the type to want to be upstanding about things and here is admitting he’s had anything but pure thoughts about his flatmate’s boyfriend. 

He jerks with no control over his body when Robb’s mouth closes around his erection and before he knows it his fingers are in his curls, flexing with the waves of pleasure running through him. The feel of the talented tongue licking up over his length has him bring his legs up and over Robb’s broad shoulders, hooking his ankles.

“Drowned god,” he breathes, arching his back. Robb’s hands knead at his buttocks, edging slowly closer to what he wants. With all the grace he can muster - which is not a lot it must be said - he reaches to pull open the top drawer by his bed and fumbles until he gets a hold on what he wants. “Hey,” he groans, tugging Robb’s hair lightly to shift his eyeline.

The intensity in Robb’s eyes when he looks up finds him by surprise. He only takes the bottle from him once he’s made a show of lapping over the head of his cock, but he doesn’t take his time slicking up his fingers and circling his rim, sending shivers up his spine.

Robb is sat gazing down on him by the time he’s decided to make the move. He slides in a single finger in one fluid motion, eyes flicking from Theon’s faces to his arse and back again as he watches for his reaction. The way he nips his lip when an involuntary noise escapes, is just as delightful as the physical satisfaction he gains when a second finger joins the first.

A smirk appears on Robb’s face. Theon may have had him a mess thus far, but he’s the one keeping his cool now.

“I need you inside me,” Theon turns his voice sultry. “I need you to fuck me.”

Robb raises a brow, quickening the pace enough to make his gasp. “How much do you need it?”

Theon’s chest heaves, it's almost too much when Robb crooks his finger. He answers with little laugh, closing his eyes and concentrating on Robb’s ministrations.

“I asked,” says Robb, insistent as he circles the bundle of nerves inside him, “how much?”

“More than I’ve ever needed anything,” he whimpers, pushing back against Robb’s hand. “Please, please, fuck me.”

Robb show’s no intention of rushing things though, his smile only grows with Theon’s desperation. His only consolation is the hand that roams over him, strokes his thighs and gently massages his balls.

“You’re torturing me,” Theon accuses him when he slows, meticulous in maintaining enough pressure to have him moaning while bringing him back down.

“You ought to be grateful that you have guests I mean to send you back to looking well fucked, because believe me there’s nothing I’d like more than to give you a little taste of your own medicine.”

If it weren’t for the way he breaks the first condom he tries to put on, Theon might think Robb was completely in control, but when he sits up, chest heaving, to help him, Robb reaches out to cup his jaw and draw him in for a kiss.

 _Fuck_ , Theon thinks as he falls back, pulling Robb down with him. He’s enough to make his head spin. It’s a small wonder that he manages to roll the condom down Robb’s considerable erection without splitting it again while that beautiful mouth of his is working magic against his neck. Here he is already thinking on how he’s going to need bigger ones on hand from now on - and that’s not just for just in case purposes. No, it's on account of how eager he is to do this time and time again.

Robb looks into his eyes when he pushes slowly into him in measured steps. His fingers graze over his lips and down his throat when Theon can no longer contain the sound begging to be let free. 

Theon fights his body's instinct to close his eyes and fixes them on Robb’s own as he picks up the speed. If anything makes him feel vulnerable, it's this; the way he seems to marvel over what he sees.

There’s no need to beg for more with him, Theon’s toes curl at the way he pounds into him.

“Good?” Robb asks him, knowing full well it is.

Theon groans. “Really fucking good.”

This ringing endorsement isn’t quite good enough. Robb’s hand pushes his thigh until it's up against his chest and Theon cries out with pleasure at the change. Not once does his rhythm falter.

“Oh fuck,” he whines, a hand at his forehead and eyebrows knitting. “Oh gods… oh gods, you feel so good.”

“Was this what you needed?”

Theon’s heart makes a leap. Drowned god. He finds himself nodding, struggling for the words.

“I wanted to give it to you,” Robb breathes into his ear, beard rubbing against his skin. “Does that turn you on? I… I wanted nothing more than to go over there and give you more.”

A grin spreads over Theon’s face. His only response is to let his eyes roll back into his skull and to allow his moans to drip out unbridled. He wanted to one up Patrek is what he means. Maybe he should care about the voices outside the room, but he can’t bring himself to.

Robb’s teeth graze his skin down to his collar where he sinks his teeth briefly only to lavish it with kisses; Theon’s hand threaded through his curls. Robb takes his other hand and guides it down his torso to wrap his fingers around his cock and set a pace.

He could melt from the synchronised pleasure brought to him from the strokes and the delicious stretch. He loses most of his awareness save that of the rush, until Robb takes his hand from where it had been guiding him and traces callused fingertips across his lips, and he takes the eagerly into his mouth, humming around Robb’s digits.

Husky voice betraying just how far gone is, Robb tells him, “they’ve heard enough, from now on it's just for me.”

Arousal spikes right through him, he can feel his legs begin to tremble. Above him, Robb’s face contorts with ecstasy, his eyes close when Theon sucks with enthusiasm around his fingers. He’d like more; to feel the ache at his jaw while he makes Robb come undone with his mouth alone. He’s dreamt of Robb guiding him onto his cock, hand buried in his hair. 

It’s growing impossible to keep his hand moving as the waves wash over him, there's little more he can do but moan and let Robb feel the vibrations. Let him feel what he’s doing to him with every graze of that sweet spot.

Robb nips his ear and let’s the lobe slide from between to whisper into the shell of his ear, “you’re everything I imagined… and I imagined it a lot.”

The slick noise of Robb’s tongue licking hot and wet sounds filthy echoing in his ear. He can’t last much longer, and Robb must sense this because when Theon gulps and opens his eyes to look at him, he removes his fingers and replaces them with his lips to have them swallowing one another's noises. Robb’s hand rests at Theon’s neck, rough thumb taking in the contours of his jaw and throat. He pulls back just enough to whisper into his mouth, “say my name.”

Theon half laughs half chokes at that and gasps when Robb thrusts harder into him. “Oh fuck,” he groans, “Robb.” He expects it to stick in his throat, for it to be an effort to get out, but it slips out like it had just been waiting for the permission. He’d sooner hear himself moaning a series of impersonal pet names. Fuck, he’s under his skin. “Gods, Robb,” he repeats it again, nails digging into Robb’s back.

It’s worth it. That breakdown in his own rules.

Robb kisses him like he’s never been kissed before, with furious passion, and fucks him to match. 

He comes with Robb’s name on his lips. The shudders of bliss have him fold in on himself, forehead touching this almost stranger’s own as euphoria washes over his body. Before he can comment, Robb is pulling out of him, tearing off that condom he’d taken care to get on, and finishes over his own release sprayed across his stomach. 

Mother have mercy.

WIth smug satisfaction, Robb rolls from him and onto the bed panting. There’s very little they can say to each other for a short while, but they share a grin through the haze.

A few minutes later, Robb props himself up on his elbow to get a good look at him and trails a finger lazily through the sticky mess. Despite his smile, it takes him some time and a couple of cute licks of his lips before he manages to get any words out. 

“I was hoping it might not be overstepping the mark to ask you out for a drink?” Drowned god, he looks nervous underneath it all. Through flashes of white teeth and sparkling blue eyes. “I uh… I don’t really do this…”

Realistically, Theon had known he was hot, but it's looking at him like this, posture relaxed in his nudity and expression soft and a touch coy despite everything, that it really hits him just how gorgeous he really is.

“How about I take you back downstairs for a drink and then I have you crying out my name later when it's just us again?”

“That’s- I mean-... It’s not quite what I had in mind.”

“And I’ll let you take me out tomorrow,” Theon concedes.

“For dinner.”

Theon chuckles, “you drive a hard bargain.”

“I could be harder,” Robb jokes while wiggling his eyebrows.

Pushing at his shoulder, Theon shakes his head, but he can’t help but laugh. “That was terrible, you should be ashamed.” Fuck, he should have known this would happen. Trust Patrek to have a friend that could do this to him. “Sure, dinner sounds great.”


End file.
